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doc#147 | when he leveled off just above the trees. | The | opposing aircraft continued to come on. |
doc#147 | it, Greg knew they had found the enemy. | The | shapes were unmistakable and the Rising |
doc#147 | on the guns and gun camera and gun sight. | The | circle with the dot in the center showed |
doc#147 | engine responded as if it had been waiting. | The | clearly identifiable enemy continued on |
doc#147 | his circular sight and then added another. | The | enemy did not veer. It did not seem possible |
doc#147 | Greg's fingers closed on the stick trigger. | The | plane rumbled and slowed. Six red lines |
doc#147 | second on the engine section of the plane. | The | Jap's propeller flew off in pieces. A large |
doc#148 | Orleans' Vieux Carre, the old French Quarter. | The | arrangement I had with him was to work |
doc#148 | had with him was to work four hours a day. | The | rest of the time I devoted to painting |
doc#148 | give me time to paint I accepted. </p><p> | The | arrangement turned out to be excellent. |
doc#148 | eyes were waiting around the next corner. | The | very faces of the people bore this expectation |
doc#148 | accustomed to studying the physical body. | The | true artist is like one of those scientists |
doc#148 | can reconstruct an animal's entire body. | The | artist looks at an ankle, a calf, a bosom |
doc#148 | store she did not switch on the lights. | The | cavernous depth, cluttered with antiques |